


The World At Large

by calliopewrites



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Coffee Shops, Dean/Castiel - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, dean/cas - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-16 00:16:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9265370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calliopewrites/pseuds/calliopewrites
Summary: Castiel and Dean meet at a coffee shop and can't stop thinking about one another.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All non-original characters are property of their respective owners. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Also the title is a song by Modest Mouse, if you want to find it.

Castiel's POV  


The coffee shop was crowded with people stopping on their morning commute to work. They filtered in through the doorway, so that there seemed to be a continuous stream of chilly air blowing in from outside, and a background symphony of chimes from the bells on the door handle. The line trudged forward and Cas stared, eyes slightly glazed over, at the next person in line. He hadn’t slept well the night before and had been up early to get to work on time. The person in front of him was blurred and he blinked his tired eyes to clear his vision. He took in the perfectly chiseled face and clear green eyes in front of him. The man had a bit of stubble, and seemed uncomfortable in his suit and tie. Suddenly, Cas was awake.  


He fiddled with the ties on his coffee stained apron, feeling a bit self-conscious. He knew his hair was still messy from sleep and, despite the frequent cold breezes from the opening door, his face was blotchy and red from the hot interior of the coffee shop. His lips parted slightly and he exhaled. He was being ridiculous.  


“Wh-what can I get you today sir?” he asked.  


“I, uh, some sort of coffee please. That’s what the rest of them get, isn’t it?” The man gestured around to the other customers, wearing their black and grey suits, holding their briefcases. A sea of existential crises and regret that one could drown in. Cas exhaled again. Overly dramatic. That’s what he was.  


“Yes, okay, I’ll just, how about the, um, Guatemalan? Guatemalan blend? I think that is good. I think. But I don’t know. Breakfast blend, maybe, more caffeine? Or what about―” Someone else in line cleared their throat.  


“Guatemalan is fine.” The man looked uncomfortable. Cas mentally chided himself.  


“Ok, um.” Cas rang him up on the register. “That’s, um.” He looked up and made eye contact with him. He made a last minute impulsive decision. “That’s free. Free, no charge.” Employee benefits at the coffee shop were slim, but Cas did get free coffee. He wasn’t supposed to give the coffee to other people, but that was besides the point.  


The man squinted at Cas, but seemed too tired to argue. Cas smiled at him as he moved away and the next person walked up to the counter. Several minutes later, the man left in a gust of wind from outside, leaving the bells on the door singing and swaying back and forth.  


The rest of Cas’s shift was uneventful. Once the morning rush ended, the coffee shop became peaceful, with people only coming in occasionally, a mixture of elderly couples passing through on their daily walk and hipster college students settling down to study with a mug of coffee by their side.  


The man with the emerald eyes didn’t leave Cas’s mind though. They’d been troubled, those eyes, like the depths of the sea before a storm. Cas wished he’d said something more, asked the guy for his name, even written his number down on the coffee cup, maybe like something out of a cheesy romance movie. But Cas was way too diffident for that. His last boyfriend had been back in college, and now that he was in medical school, he had convinced himself he didn’t have time for that sort of thing.  


Suddenly, a wave of remembrance overtook Cas, the memories flooding back in, a tidal wave of repressed shadows of love and pain. Meeting him, the first day, in class, when Cas was so lost, and he was so kind, and helpful. Their first date, meant to be dinner, and a movie, but then they had ended up back at his place so quickly, and both previous plans were forgotten. It was always like that with him, passionate in a way that seemed to be too fast, too much. And then there had been the fighting, the endless arguments over what seemed like nothing, and Cas seemed to always be at fault. After a month, Cas found out he’d been cheating. And then it was over, just like that. But it still hurt, and so Cas had locked the memories away, and distracted himself with school and scheduling. And it had worked, until some beautiful stranger had come into the shop by some cruel twist of fate, and now Cas just couldn’t stop thinking about him.  


When Cas’s shift ended, he left for lunch, glancing around the busy streets, fruitlessly hoping he might catch of glimpse of a familiar face. But the mysterious man from that morning was nowhere to be seen.  


It was silly, anyway, Cas though to himself, trying to push away these thoughts. He didn’t even know the guy, really, he could be anyone, could even be some terrible person. Could be rude. Could be taken. Probably wasn’t even gay. Wasn’t even gay. He probably wasn’t even gay. Cas repeated this to himself a few times, trying to clear his head. Because that was logical. What were the chances some utterly handsome, kind stranger came in for coffee, and also just happened to be gay? And even then, would even look at Cas? Out of everyone? What were the chances of that? One in a million, Cas told himself, for sure. And he hadn’t, he couldn’t have let that one, single person in a million come into his life and then leave, leave without a trace. He couldn’t have. Fate wasn’t that cruel.  


Lunch was just a quick salad from a small cafe down the street, as Cas had class in the afternoon. The college wasn’t far from downtown, so all it took was a short bus ride out of the busy city center. Cas watched the buildings as they passed, wondering if, just through one window out of the thousands he could see from where he sat, the man also sat. Wondering if maybe he possible remembered Cas from the morning. Cas sighed. This was not helping anything. But try as he might, Cas could not forget him.  


The day continued in this fashion. Cas could not focus in his lecture because all he could see were those emerald eyes. He stopped for dinner after class, but chose a seat by the window so he could watch the street outside, grasping at the possibility that he would see those emerald eyes again. Once, on the subway, back to his apartment, he thought he saw the back of a familiar head, but it turned out to be just another commuter heading home after a long day.  


The apartment was towards the edge of the of the city, where the buildings just started to look a bit more tired and dreary, but they weren’t to the point of near collapse. Cas’s building had no elevator, so he took the stairs up to the third floor. The stairwell was dark, at this time of the day, as most of the lightbulbs had burnt out over time, and the landlord had yet to replace them. Cas’s footsteps echoed as he climbed the stairs. He had been slightly tired in the morning, but he was exhausted now. He fumbled with his keys before unlocking his door. Little light came in from the windows now that the sun had almost set, but the lights in the city created pinpricks of light that made the skyline and the dark sky above it glow a bit. Cas supposed that was really just an example of light pollution and how people were ruining the earth, but the cityscape looked pretty lit up at night, like a postcard.  


Cas threw himself onto his couch and used the remote to turn on the television. The volume was on low, and so the voices of the newscasters created a background murmur as he looked out at the lights. The backwards reflection of the television in the window obscured the view, but Cas continued to stare out at the blurred outlines of buildings decorated by manmade fireflies. Somewhere out there was the man from the coffee shop. Somewhere, somewhere, somewhere. The word repeated itself over and over again in Cas’s head as his breathing slowed and his eyelids slowly closed.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean's POV

The guy’s name tag had said Cas. Cas. He had had blue eyes like the sky on a cloudless day in late winter, cold and clear. He had the most adorable tousled dark brown hair and he gave Dean free coffee and smiled. Cas. The name sounded like the sound of the bells on the coffee shop door, which faded into the distance as Dean walked down the crowded street. His jacket was stiff and felt awkward. It didn’t feel right to be going to work, not like this. This wasn’t him. His father’s words echoed in his mind, however, like the slamming of a prison cell door.  


“It’s the family business, Dean. This is your responsibility as a Winchester. Do not disappoint me.” Don’t disappoint me. Not like Sam did. But Dean wasn’t like Sam. Sam had been brave, brave enough to walk out on their father, to do what he dreamed of doing, to leave and never look back. Last Dean had heard, Sam was off in California, working as a teacher. Sam had always liked helping people. Sam, though, too, had always known exactly what to do and how to do it. He was sure of himself, sure of what he wanted. Dean was never so unwavering, so assured. Dean was a coward, and that was why he was here.  


He gazed up at the building in front of him, the glass facade reflecting the worn stone of the building opposite as it towered into the sky. Dean sighed and followed the small line of people as they filtered into the building through the revolving door. The elevator doors pinged as they opened, a sorrowfully, flat note that made the empty space seem even more bland and melancholy. Dean watched as the ground fell away, and up he went, into the sky. As the elevator sound noted each passing floor, his shoulders slumped deeper and deeper.  


This was his fate. Every day, for the rest of his life, this monotonous drone that some might call living, but in his mind, in his heart, in his very soul, he knew there was something more, something else he should be doing. The coffee, still in his hand, forgotten, sloshed dangerously as the elevator halted in its climb. The doors opened, revealing a nondescript hallway of beige. Beige wallpaper, beige carpeting, even the lighting seemed to have a slightly beige tint to it.  


His office was five doors down the hall, a nondescript door with a plaque on it reading ‘Dean Winchester’, and underneath, slightly smaller ‘Head of Marketing’. Dean rolled his eyes whenever he saw it. It was just a title, really, with no job to it. Dean wasn’t even sure if it was a real job. It probably was, somewhere. For Dean, though, it just meant occasionally checks on the people actually working on the main advertising room, countless pointless phone calls, and comparing tables of numbers that meant nothing to him, which he couldn’t really care less about. It was all just so pointless. Dan put his face in his hands and screamed in frustration and helplessness.  


He was interrupted, though, by a knock on the door.  


“Yes?” he said, looking up to see his father’s dark eyes staring back at him. John Winchester was a stocky man, with a short temper and a willingness to do anything to succeed. His lips flattening into a thin line and his eyes narrowed when he looked at Dean, but this reaction was really nothing new. Dean stared back at him, holding his gaze. “Something you need?”  


“Just seeing you made it to the office.” So basically, making sure Dean hadn’t run off or done anything else that would disgrace the family reputation before nine in the morning. Dean did not answer, but instead merely broke eye contact and turned on his computer in an attempt to look busy. Realizing Dean was not planning on responding, his father turned and stomped back out the door. Several seconds later, Dean heard him shouting at some other unfortunate soul down the hall.  


People had told him his father hadn’t always been so irritable, that he had once been a pleasant and polite man to be around, with a contagious smile and eyes that lit up when he laughed. But since Dean’s mother had died, the light slowly faded and those genuine smile were few and far between. They were replaced by a consistent scowl, occasionally interrupted by a sickly grin, like a shark's, for business deals and the like. All John Winchester cared about was the company, and so he worked, until he was one of the most influential businessmen in America. But that wasn’t enough, he had to keep going, getting better and better, and he expected his sons to do the same. There was no other option. And the company was more important than everything else.  


Dean had learned this early on, when he had tried, carefully, timidly, one evening, to tell his father that he was gay. Dean shuddered at the memory, at the image of his father’s face, twisted in rage. I never want to hear you say that again, never again, he had yelled. He had yelled and yelled, about how that wasn’t natural, about how Dean was a disappointment, about how he would disgrace their whole family. But the yelling hadn’t been the worst of it…  


Dean was startled out of his memories by a shrill ping from the computer. You have mail: 139 new messages. Dean sighed and opened the first email.  


The day continued. Once, when there was a slight lull in the previously steady barrage of emails, faxes, and phone calls, Dean remembered the man who had worked at the coffee shop. He glanced at the window behind, swiveling back and forth in his chair absently. What was he doing, this man, Cas, who handed out free coffee like it was nothing? Cas. Dean wondered if it was short for something. He muttered the name to himself. Cas. It was silly, really, to be obsessing over a name like this, but it was all Dean had to go on. Just a name and a memory of a pair of bright blue eyes that pierced his soul.  


Dean realized suddenly that he hadn’t even given Cas his name, but he didn’t have time to consider this failing any longer. The phone rung shrilly behind him and he had to turn to answer it, away from the window that looked out over the entire city.  


When the clock on Dean’s desk read five o’clock, he turned off his computer. The sun had just started to set behind him and the light of the streetlights on the ground below clashed with the glow of the sun. Before closing the door of his office and heading back down the hallway, Dean glanced back at his desk, where his eyes fell on the coffee cup. He picked it up, turning it to see if maybe there was anything written on it that could help him find Cas, but there was nothing. The coffee was still in it, untouched and stone cold. He had set it on his desk in the morning and hadn’t looked at it again until now. He didn’t even like coffee, really, it was too bitter, but he had decided to try it. As if drinking the vile beverage would somehow make him the perfect son in his father’s eyes.  


On an impulse, Dean snapped a picture of the logo on the front of the cup with his phone. Just in case, then, he could go back. Maybe, just maybe, Cas would be there. Then he tossed the cup into the trash can beside his desk, where it landed in the bottom with a dull thud. He flicked the lightswitch then, casting the room into darkness, and left.  


Dean’s apartment wasn’t far from where he worked, so he walked down the crowded street, taking in the evening crowds of the city. It was a Friday night, and so many people were dressed up, going somewhere, doing something. Dean used to be one of that sort. But when Sam had left, it hadn’t been the same, without someone to roll their eyes as Dean dragged them out to some new club or bar, without someone to laugh as Dean got drunk and tried and failed to pick up guys because they knew their father would never know, without someone to sigh when Dean complained about being hungover the next morning. No, it wasn’t the same.  


And so Dean passed through the crowds, home being his only destination. He reached his apartment building and took the elevator to his floor. He smiled slightly as he unlocked his door and entered his apartment. It wasn’t much, really, but it was home. He had bought it himself, with no help from his father, in a rare act of independent rebellion. The slight shabbiness of the furniture and scuffing on the floors was a relief.  


Grabbing leftover Chinese takeout from his refrigerator, Dean sat on his couch looking out at the city. He scanned it, as if he could see each individual person living their own life, as if he was looking for one in particular. But all he could see was taxi headlights and stoplights and streetlights and he looked away, throwing the takeout container into the garbage. He trudged into the bathroom, to shower. The final thing he did before climbing into bed and turning out the light was look out, again, at the city, as if this time, maybe, he would see those blue eyes out among the many lights of the skyline.


	3. Chapter 3

Castiel's POV

Cas had an early class Saturday morning. The alarm on his phone rang, causing to sit up. He groaned as he did, stiff from sleeping all night on the couch. He hadn’t meant to, but he’d been so tired the night before. It looked like he would be tired again today as well, he noted as he yawned widely. The television was still playing, but now it had transitioned into morning news. He shut it off, and then squinted at the time on his phone. 7:30. He sighed. He had overslept. Sure enough, a few more taps on his phone told him he had slept through his first two alarms. Now there was no time for breakfast. He quickly changed his clothes, as he had slept in what he had worn yesterday, and splashed water on his face in a hurry. He brushed his teeth and his hair simultaneously, keeping his eye on the clock. He grabbed his phone and bag and raced out the door. 

It was raining outside. What started as just a drizzle when he left his apartment soon became a torrential downpour. Luckily, Cas made it to the bus without getting completely soaked. While on the bus, he tapped his foot anxiously on the slightly damp floor, willing it to go faster. When the bus finally reached his stop, he sprung up from where he sat and dashed out the still opening doors. It wasn't a long walk to the building where Cas had class and it took even less time when sprinting, but this time Cas wasn't as lucky as he had been before and he was completely soaked by the time he reached class. To make matters worse, he was several minutes late, and so he had to walk into the full classroom. His wet shoes squeaked on the floor as he took a seat towards the back of the lecture hall. Fortunately, the professor had not begun speaking yet, and so Cas sat and took his laptop out of his bag. 

It was a particularly boring lecture and Cas found his mind wandering as the professor’s voice droned on. The man with the emerald eyes still haunted his thoughts. The exact memory of his face had faded, leaving a ghostly outline in Cas’s head, but those eyes were burned into his mind. He wouldn’t forget them any time soon, he was sure. He wondered where the man was, what he was doing. Suddenly excited, he looked around the room, because maybe… but it was a stupid idea, because the man had clearly been a businessman, so why would he be in some random college classroom? 

Cas really shouldn’t be thinking about him. Cas had promised himself he would stop. It was borderline obsessive and completely ridiculous that an encounter of no more than three minutes would leave so big a mark on Cas’s life. When the lecture ended, Cas took the bus again back home. Standing in front of his apartment building, he remembered he didn’t have any food left at home. It was around lunchtime and the fact that he had had no time for breakfast was finally catching up to him. He stood under the shop awning next door to avoid the rain as he debated running up to grab an umbrella, but decided against it and opted instead to wait under the awning until the bus returned to take him back into town. It wasn’t a long wait, really, and Cas found himself enjoying the outdoor air. It was April and winter was just starting to retreat northward and away from the city as spring advanced in rush of wind, rain storms, and warmth. 

The rainy breeze whispered of new beginnings, and the man with the deep green eyes found his way back into Cas’s thoughts. If only Cas had done something, anything, to find out more about him. Regret consumed him, but he attempted to push it away. The bus arrived and he had a nice lunch at a whole-in-the-wall type restaurant that he had discovered when he had first moved to the city. It was still his favorite restaurant, and the food was delicious, but he couldn’t help but think how nice it would be for someone to share it with him… 

After lunch, it was time to go back to his apartment. Homework from his classes had accumulated creating a daunting and arduous, but necessary task. There was no time to ponder what could have been as related to the memory from the coffee shop, but instead his attention was focused on surgery reports, diagrams, and essays on pain medication. There was also a lot of coffee involved, as it was around 1:30 when Cas finally went to sleep, although this time, he managed to move from the couch to his bed first. The following morning, he slept in, with no need to set an alarm on a Sunday. When Cas awoke in the early afternoon, however, he was disappointed to rediscover the absence of food in his refrigerator. Reluctantly, he got dressed and left for the supermarket. What was initially meant to be a quick run to grab essential food items turned into a much longer ordeal as Cas experienced firsthand the reason you should not go to a supermarket when hungry. When he reached the checkout, he winced at the price, but decided at least he wouldn’t have to make any more runs to the store for a while. 

At home, he decided to make scrambled eggs, having missed breakfast for the last few days. Cas wasn’t really much of a cook, but scrambled eggs were easy and he had made them quite frequently. With a few slices of toast and a glass of orange juice, they tasted quite nice, and so Cas sat down to eat on the couch, which was still covered with textbooks, notebooks, and pens from the night before. 

After lunch, Cas considered going somewhere, doing something, but he couldn't find the motivation to do anything. He reached for his computer, to binge watch Netflix or browse Tumblr, but then paused. It had stopped raining outside and the sun shone brightly now that it had come out of its hiding place behind the clouds, which were slowly receding, leaving small patches of clear blue open sky. It was too lovely a day to waste, and so he left his apartment yet again, and walked. 

He didn't have a plan as to where he was going. He just let his feet carry him down the street and watched the people around him, going about their lives. He noticed that they always seemed so unhappy, displeased with some aspect of their own lives. And yet they still continued living those lives, searching for perfection in a world that constantly kept it out of reach. The man with the emerald eyes returned to Cas’s thoughts. Who was Cas to seek perfection when it was unachievable for everyone else? Cas resolved to forget about the man. There was no use dwelling on ifs and maybes, especially if the universe itself was against it. And he was successful in his resolution. For the rest of the day, Cas focused on the present moment, and the emerald eyed man did not make his way into his thoughts.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean’s POV

Dean woke Saturday morning to the phone ringing. He groaned and stretched, reaching onto the bedside table. His fingers closed onto his phone and he glanced at it. The screen lit up, showing the time (9:30) and a notification that read Sammy: three missed calls. Dean closed his eyes again and sighed. He hadn't talked to Sam since December, when Sam had told him that he was in California and had a teaching job. Dean thought he remembered Sam had said he was teaching third graders, or maybe it was sixth graders. Dean didn't know. He had tried to call Sam on New Years, and then again around the beginning of March, but he hadn't answered. Dean had figured Sam was too busy with his new life, away from their father and Dean, and that Sam would think any sort of conversation would have been painful for both of them. Dean thought of all the times he had needed Sam, when he hadn’t been there. It used to be that Sam would just know. He would know when life was taking a toll on Dean, when the pressure from their father became too much, when Dean just needed someone, Sam used to be there. And when he wasn’t, Dean felt it. In the beginning more so than now, in the early days when Sam’s escape from the city had been a gash on Dean’s heart. It was more of a scar now, but the mark didn’t fade, and probably never would. 

And now Sam was calling Dean. Dean should respond. Dean should be the older brother, the one who was there, who answered the phone immediately (although it was too late for that now), the one who Sam knew he could depend on. But why should Dean be that for Sam when Sam had stopped being that for Dean long ago? 

Dean didn’t know what to do. He really should call Sam back. But not right now. He would wait until later. Because he should get up, have breakfast, maybe even see what was on the news. Because Dean definitely didn’t want to call Sam right away and tell him everything that had happened in Dean’s life since their last conversation. Because clearly Sam hadn’t missed Dean all that much and obviously Dean didn’t miss Sam either. 

Dean knew he was being ridiculous. It was so trivial. But yet it seemed like he had to wait. Because of Dean’s pride. Dean didn’t like to think like this. It reminded him of his father, so caught up in his pride that he couldn’t see how he was hurting their family, how he had already hurt their family. Dean’s worst fear was that he would turn out just like his father, but as much as he tried to distance himself from that path, it seemed he would inevitably find his way back to it. 

Dean opened the app on his phone to call Sam back, but then closed it. He bit his lip, unsure. He decided to at least get out of bed first. This evolved into eating breakfast, and soon he had eaten, gotten dressed, and brought in the mail. Was it pride, or was he putting off the conversation with Sam? Dean wasn’t sure. Eventually, though, he had nothing more to do. He sat down in several places around his apartment before deciding on the couch as the appropriate location. He took deep breath, and pressed the call button on Sam’s contact on his phone. 

The ringing seemed to last forever, and Dean wondered if maybe he had waited too long and Sam would have moved on. Maybe Sam regretted calling Dean in the first place and was now just staring at Dean’s contact on his screen, waiting for the phone to stop ringing so he could move on with his new life. But then the ringing stopped and Dean heard Sam’s voice at the other end of the line. 

“Hello.” 

“Hello.” Dean didn’t know what else to say. He had so much on his mind, where should he start? But Sam spoke before he could. 

“So, are you still working at the company?” Dean knew Sam was just trying to make small talk, to find out more about what Dean was doing, but it felt like Sam was pointing out his fault, his weakness, the fact that he still had not yet managed to escape their father. 

“Yes.” 

“Oh.” Sam didn’t say anything else. Dean supposed there was nothing else he could say. 

“Where are you working?” 

“Monroe Elementary School.” The name meant nothing to Dean, but he hadn’t expected it to. “I teach third grade. They’re great kids, Dean.” 

“That’s good.” 

“Maybe you could come meet them someday.” 

“Maybe.” And maybe he could. If Dean ever managed to get away from the company, to start his own life. Maybe he could. But it was unlikely, and Dean knew Sam knew that too. 

“I-I’ve met someone too, Dean. She’s… amazing. Her name is Jessica, Jess. She’s smart and kind and funny and beautiful. I love her, Dean.” This was rare. Sam didn’t love others easily, not like Dean. Dean seemed to give away pieces of his heart whenever he met someone, but Sam waited until he was sure, and then handed away his whole heart. Dean wasn’t sure which of them became heartbroken more easily. He supposed it didn’t matter. 

“That’s good.” 

“Maybe you could come meet her too.” 

“Hmm.” Dean had already expressed his opinion on the likelihood he would visit Sam in California. 

“Or maybe I could come back. We could see each other, and Jess could come, and you could meet her. Dad wouldn’t have to know.” 

“He would find out,” Dean replied. Their father always knew. 

“No, he wouldn’t.” Dean didn’t answer. He didn’t want to argue with Sam. Sam changed the subject. “How are you doing Dean?” 

“I’m fine.” 

“No, I mean how are you actually doing?” 

“Like I said, I’m fine.” Dean would prefer to not talk about his feelings with Sam, but felt he had to add something. “I moved,” he offered. “I have an apartment that is actually mine now.” 

“That’s good, Dean, that’s really good… Have you been seeing anyone?” “

No.” 

“Have you met anyone?” 

“No.” Dean chose not to mention the man from the coffee shop. It didn’t really make any sense to mention him anyway, because he hadn’t really even met him. He still felt a bit guilty though for it. Perhaps he should tell Sam… but no. It might worry Sam, if he heard that Dean was so desperate that he was falling in love with strangers in coffee shops. Had Dean fallen in love? Was it even possible to fall in love with someone when you hadn’t even really met them? Dean wasn’t sure, and he supposed he would never know, as he would probably never see that man again. 

“Have you tried?” Dean didn’t answer that question. Sam knew his answer. The line was silent, both brother’s searching for something to say. Sam sighed at the other end of the phone. “Dean, I have to go. And Dean?” 

“Yes?” 

“Try. For me.” 

“Goodbye, Sam.” 

“Dean―” 

“Goodbye.” Dean hung up. Dean spent the rest of the day, and the rest of the weekend really, attempting to distract himself from the memory of two sky blue eyes and a name like bells, and trying to dismiss Sam’s words from his mind.


	5. Chapter 5

Castiel’s POV

Monday morning began with the shrill beeping of Cas’s alarm clock. He groaned. It seemed that it had been not three hours since he had fallen asleep, although really he had gone to bed fairly early. He dragged himself out of bed and turned on the lamp beside his bed. He blinked blearily in the sudden brightness. When his eyes had adjusted to the light, he turned it off again and climbed back into bed. Presently, a second alarm began to ring. He turned on the light, turned it off again, and sat in the darkness waiting for the dancing shadows of the lights to fade from his eyes. Then the alarm rang again. This time though, when he turned on the light, he kept it on, and walked into the bathroom. This happened every Monday morning, and it had become a sort of tradition, so much that Cas secretly believed it gave him good luck, although he couldn’t quite place why he felt that way. Mondays, after all, were not particularly lucky days for him and really weren’t unusual in the slightest. Still, this was what he had done every other Monday, and so he did it this one as well.

He dressed for work at the coffee shop. He was there every weekday morning. He’d worked there since he started college. It wasn’t a particularly difficult job, and it paid fairly well, and he liked it well enough. He didn’t have breakfast before he left his apartment. He would find something at the coffee shop to eat.

Cas took the bus to work. The closest stop was two blocks away and so Cas walked along the sidewalk as several taxis drove past, rushing to get somewhere. It was early and most people weren’t out yet and the city seemed strangely calm, as though it too had simply opted not to get up this morning and so everything was paused, a silent moment suspended in time.

When he reached the coffee shop, Cas fumbled in his pockets for his key before groaning when he realized he had forgotten it. He banged on the glass door with his fist, hoping someone had gotten here before him so he wouldn’t have to wait outside. Luckily, someone did come. It was Chuck, the guy who sometimes worked shifts at the coffee shop with Cas. Cas wasn’t really sure what else Chuck did, or if he was a student, or what. He just showed up sometimes. Cas thought he had heard Chuck was a friend of the owner.

Chuck let him in and Cas walked into the back room to tie on his white apron. As he had suspected, there was a tray of day old pastries by the back door, waiting to be thrown into the bin. He grabbed one and wandered back out. Chuck’s eyes immediately focused on the pastry in Cas’s hand.

“Those are still back there?” he asked. Cas nodded, his mouth full of the slightly crumbly sweet treat. Chuck disappeared into the back room and emerged after a moment, a croissant in each hand. After Cas had finished eating, he began to take chairs off tables and set them on the floor. After a bit, Chuck helped him, and then they took the pastries that had been prepared the night before and put them into the oven. Soon everything was in order and the smell of fresh baked goods filled the air as Cas filled the case on the counter. Chuck flipped the sign on the door to read OPEN and the two stood behind the counter, waiting patiently for the flow of customers to begin.

As Cas waited, his mind wandered back to when he had stood here a couple days ago, when he had seen the man with the emerald eyes. Would he come today? Cas wasn’t sure. He didn’t seem like the type to frequent coffee shops on the way to work. Cas wished he would come, wished he could have another chance. However, soon people began to fill the small shop and the aroma of coffee also diffused into the air. Cas was kept busy, dashing between the register, the coffee machine, and around the shop to wipe tables. When he got a moment, he darted into the back room to catch his breath, smoothing his hair and taking a quick sip of water. He only had a few second though, before he had to rush back out to help Chuck again. 

It was nearing the end of the morning rush. The flow of people entering the shop slowed and now just the occasional straggler entered through the glass door, ringing the familiar bell to announce their arrival. These were those who were late to work, and they rushed up to the counter looking harried and stressed, with their ties half tied, hair slightly messy, and shirts wrinkled. They came every morning and demanded their coffee to arrive quickly and so this was the reason that Cas had his back turned and was facing the coffee machine when the door opened. This was the reason that Cas didn’t pay attention when the bells on the door jingled. This was the reason Cas didn’t turn to look at the next customer until he had handed the rushed businessman his overpriced latte.

“Hello, what can I get you today?” mumbled Cas, glancing at the time display on the register instead of the customer’s face to see how close his shift was to being over.

“Uh, well, I was just―” That voice, it was oddly familiar, like one of an old friend that he hadn’t seen for quite some time. He looked up and his mouth fell open. “Just wondering if you might recommend something,” the man with the emerald eyes finished. Cas just stared at him disbelievingly. He blinked several times. It couldn’t be him. He couldn’t actually be here. Cas’s eyes raked over him, taking in every detail that he had missed before, from the pure green glow of his eyes and the slight messiness of his hair to his chiseled jawline and slight shadow of stubble. The man cleared his throat.

“Oh, right, um, coffee, coming right up. Our special blend.” Cas’s fingers struggled to work the coffee machine.

“I-I was just going to say that if you look at someone like that, you might as well give them your number at least.”

What did that mean? Was he making fun of Cas? Cas felt his cheeks flush as he poured the coffee. He turned to face the man, who smiled slightly, in a way that somehow conveyed to Cas that he meant it sincerely.

“Um, here.” Cas grabbed the sharpie they used to write names on the cups and scribbled his phone number. He handed over the coffee, looking at the man shyly. “My name is Cas, by the way.” Stupid, he was wearing a nametag. “Oh, but I guess you probably already knew that.” But what if he hadn’t and now he felt awkward? “Or maybe you didn’t but I guess now you do, so, uh...” Cas’s voice trailed off.

“I’m Dean.” The man, Dean, smiled again.

“Dean.” Cas wasn’t sure what else to say. Then an idea came to him. Without thinking, he blurted out, “My shift is almost over. Would you maybe want to go get, um, breakfast when I’m done?” Dean bit his lip. “Oh, right, you probably have to go to work, right.”

“Well… I can miss work. Yes, I can. I’ll just… call in sick, or something. Yeah.” Dean wandered over to sit at one of the tables. “I’ll just wait here until you’re done.” Cas was suddenly very aware of how empty the shop was. He fiddled with the drawer on the register impatiently, waiting for the last six long minutes of his shift to his. After a few moment though, Chuck walked back into the shop from where he’d been in the back room.

“Hey Cas, do you want to end your shift early? I’ll be fine. No one’s going to come anyway.” Cas blushed again, realizing Chuck must have been listening to his and Dean’s conversation.

“Oh, sure, I guess… That would be great.”

And so that’s how Cas found himself walking along the street with Dean, emerald eyes and all. They talked about anything and everything, and it was just so easy. Cas felt as though he had been waiting his whole life to meet Dean, but at the same time that he’d known him his entire life. As they waited at the crosswalk to cross the street, there was a brief lull in conversation. It wasn’t uncomfortable, persay, but Cas felt the need to say something.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“I remembered you… from Friday.” Cas flushed. Why had he said that? Dean would think… he didn’t know what Dean would think. He looked at Dean to see that he was smiling. “What? What is it?”

“Cas,” said Dean, “I remembered you too.”


	6. Chapter 6

Dean’s POV

Dean had decided not to get up. He stared at the cracks in the ceiling of his bedroom. It was too dark to see them, but he knew they were there. His alarm had gone off five minutes ago and he had made no effort to get out of bed. He wouldn’t go to work today. It wouldn’t matter. His father would be busy, and so maybe he wouldn’t realize or care that Dean hadn’t bothered to show up. Dean knew that wasn’t true. He remembered the last time that he had thought it would be a good idea to stay home. He winced. After several more minutes of lying in bed, trying to come up with a good enough excuse to use to call in sick, he flicked on the light and got out of bed.

He really only had a few minutes to get ready, but he delayed as long as possible, and ended up walking out the door fifteen minutes later than he should have. Once outside, he had to walk faster to avoid tripping people up in their dash to work, but he still found himself weaving in and out of the masses and zig-zagging across the sidewalk to get to his destination as slowly as possible. 

He passed the bus stop near his house without a glance. It didn’t matter, as he had missed the bus he usually took anyway. As Dean walked among the people in their suits, rushing to get to their boring office jobs, his heart sunk a bit further with every step. Every single day, every single month, every single year, he would be here, until he slowly turned into one of the zombie businessmen around him. He hated this. But there was no way out, no escape from this hell.

His feet carried him along on some sort of route that his mind didn’t follow. He supposed he was going towards the company building, but it wouldn’t really have mattered to him if he wasn’t. 

Presently, he came to a stop at an intersection. As he waited to cross the street, he glanced around, struck by the familiarity of his location. It was something about that one apartment building, or maybe it was that boutique over there, or maybe… He couldn’t remember, but he had stood here before. Then he saw it. The small coffee shop with the blue and white awning. He pulled out his phone to look at the picture of the logo he had taken on Friday, but he already knew. This was it. 

He crossed the street quickly, but then paused. What if Cas wasn’t there? What if he was there? What would Dean say? Would he ask for his number? Would he ask him on a date? Maybe it would be better if Dean just went to work and forgot about Cas and his gorgeous blue eyes. Yes, that was good. Dean started off down the street towards the nearest bus stop, but then the words Sam had said to him on Saturday found their way into his thoughts.

“Try. For me.” Sam had sounded so disappointed, as if Dean had completely given into an unhappy lonely life completely controlled by their father. And well… Dean sort of had. Had Dean given up? Was going into that coffee shop considered ‘trying’? He found himself walking back to stand under the awning. He took a deep breath, and pushed open the glass door.

He saw Cas immediately. He had his back to the door and was facing the coffee machine. He was wearing a black button down and black pants and a white apron. Dean could hear Cas humming a bit as he worked and Dean smiled. He walked up to the counter as Cas handed the coffee he had been making to a stressed looking business man. Then Cas walked over to the register where Dean stood. 

“Hello, what can I get you today?” He seemed tired and he didn’t really acknowledge Dean was really different than any other customer. Because he wasn’t. Cas probably didn’t even remember him. Dean realized he had been filled with hope since the moment he entered the coffee shop, but now it shattered. 

“Uh, well, I was just―” Just what? Wondering if you remembered me? No. “Just wondering if you might recommend something.” Cas looked up at him. His blue eyes seemed to widen and Dean wondered if maybe it could be that he did in fact remember. Should he take a chance? Dean didn’t know what to do. Several years ago, with Sam by his side, he wouldn’t have hesitated to try to pick up some random barista in a coffee shop. But this wasn’t then… and Cas wasn’t really some random barista. Still, he had to do something. He cleared his throat, ready to speak, but Cas jumped and turned away.

“Oh, right, um, coffee, coming right up. Our special blend.” He started to make the coffee and Dean deflated, realizing he had messed everything up. He resolved to leave with his coffee and never come back. He wasn’t cut out for this. Sam could ask him to try all he wanted but he was done. Or was he giving up to easily? He couldn’t throw away this chance.

“I-I was just going to say that if you look at someone like that, you might as well give them your number at least.” Dean winced. That was a bad pick-up line, even for him. Cas seemed to pause for a second before pouring the coffee into a to-go cup. When he turned to face Dean, his cheeks were slightly flushed, and his eyes confused, but possibly hopeful? Dean wasn’t sure. He smiled at him, hope returning.

“Um, here.” He fumbling behind the counter. He was holding a sharpie. He was writing something on the cup. Dean smiled widely, taking the coffee as Cas held it out to him.

“My name is Cas, by the way.” I know, Dean almost replied, but he caught himself. Cas looked down at his own nametag. “Oh, but I guess you probably already knew that. Or maybe you didn’t but I guess now you do, so, uh...” He was so awkward and adorable and perfect. Dean couldn’t stop smiling.

“I’m Dean.”

“Dean,” Cas repeated, and it was amazing to hear him say it. Dean just stood there, work, his father, everything forgotten. Nothing was as important as this moment, right here, with Cas. “My shift is almost over. Would you maybe want to go get, um, breakfast when I’m done?” Dean bit his lip. “Oh, right, you probably have to go to work, right.” That hadn’t been what Dean was thinking at all. Really, he was just considering how quickly he could respond without looking too eager.

“Well… I can miss work. Yes, I can.” And he could. Because he was trying. And his father didn’t matter right here, right now. “I’ll just… call in sick, or something. Yeah.” Dean looked around and headed to a table to sit, still beaming with happiness. “I’ll just wait here until you’re done.”

After a moment, though, a man with a beard, messy hair, and a slight smirk walked out into the shop from the back room. 

“Hey Cas, do you want to end your shift early? I’ll be fine. No one’s going to come anyway,” he said. Dean couldn’t believe his luck.

“Oh, sure, I guess… That would be great,” replied Cas, and he darted in the back room, to hang up his apron, Dean realized as he returned.

“Ready?” Cas asked, smiling at him.

“Yes.” Cas didn’t know how long Dean had been waiting for this moment. 

They headed out the door together, laughing as they were nearly flattened by a sprinting commuter clearly running late. And so they talked. Conversation was easy with Cas. Dean talked about Sam, and his job, and even his father. Dean didn’t talk about his father to anyone, and yet now here he was telling a man he had just met all about him. It was crazy, but it was also amazing. Dean learned Cas was a med student, he had family some place far away, and he loved bad reality television. 

As they neared the same place Dean had crossed the road earlier, the conversation stalled, both men smiling at each other.

“Dean?” Cas said suddenly.

“Yeah?” Dean responded, still grinning and taking in his companion’s utter perfection. 

“I remembered you… from Friday.” Cas blushed, but Dean only smiled wider. “What? What is it?” asked Cas, staring at Dean with those beautiful blue eyes.

“Cas,” said Dean, “I remembered you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's it! It's done. Yay  
> Sorry the ending was sort of anticlimactic  
> I might add a part two but I don't know so let me know if you want one


End file.
